


If Hell Freezes Over

by proven_guilty



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proven_guilty/pseuds/proven_guilty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor really wants to punch everyone in Calgary, and Jordan just really wants him to stop breaking dishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Hell Freezes Over

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the hockeyanonmeme, where I posted it but can no longer find. Hallsy takes out his frustrations after an embarrassing 6-2 loss to the Flames on Jan 21. (The whole 'why'd we pull the goalie' scandal) Ebs makes him feel better. Originally named Danger in Frustration, but there's already one on here named that. (which you should read) Unbeta'd and written at about 5am, because hockey is more important than university amirite?

The door slammed open, crashing into the wall with force.

“FUCK. MOTHERFUCKING FUCK IT ALL TO FUCKING GOD DAMN HELL.” A shoe went flying in one direction, keys toward the window, bouncing off with a clatter.

“Of all the motherfucking days we could shit the fucking bed... They weren't even playing that... I don't... I just... FUCK. Why are there still dishes on my God damned counter?!” 

“Hey come on Hallsy, Taylor buddy, calm down. You did your best bro, we know that, coach knows that. You just need to..”

“To what Ryan? You weren't fucking there! You didn't have to try and carry a whole fucking team. So don't fucking start with the 'breathe man it's okay' sunshine and lolly pops _bullshit_. It's not fucking okay and you know it rookie!”

Jordan watches as Ryan flinches, eyes flashing with anger, before he swiftly turns his head away. Taylor is chucking bowls and spoons into the kitchen sink and spouting out sentences that are mostly cuss words, and Jordan knows that Kim would be appalled if she were here. He rubs his temples turning back to look at Ryan. The broken look on Ryan's face startled him.

“Bro, you know he doesn't mean it.” Jordan grips Ryan's shoulder affectionately. “You know how he is, he's just unloading his pent up energy on you. Give him some time, he'll run out of steam for his douche-engine. You're our best friend, Nugget, so don't let it get to you.” Jordan knows that Ryan still sometimes doubts his place, which is complete bullshit, because _really?_

Ryan laughs and punches Jordan in the shoulder, “Yeah, I guess I'm just used to him taking his 'aggressions' out on you.” Ryan's known for sometime about Jordan and Taylor, but he really thinks the smug smirk is unnecessary.

“Look, I'm gonna step into the hallway and call Breanne. Maybe order us some pizza. Make him feel better, when I get back we'll play some NHL'12 and fucking _destroy_ the Flames. Oh, and don't be too loud, yeah?”

“Fuck off.” Jordan's pretty sure Nuge is way to intuitive for an 18 year old. Like, he's pretty sure he was barely fit to be in public at that age, and he knows Taylor wasn't.

Which brings him back to the issue at hand. He runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh, realizing that his blonde counterpart has finally stopped throwing his shit around their apartment. Most of the stuff in the kitchen is Jordan's, and he's about 93% sure Taylor broke something, but now is definitely not the time to start a fight about it.

He shuffles into the kitchen, careful to make noise so Taylor isn't startled. Hallsy has a mean right hook, and the guys in the locker room would have too much fun if Hallsy and Ebs came in with matching black eyes.

Taylor is leaning against the counter, staring into the sink like it has the answers he's desperately searching for. Jordan's heart breaks a little. He slips his arms around Taylor's waist, holding tight and softly kissing along the base of his neck and shoulder until he can feel Taylor relax, head leaning back onto Jordan's shoulder. He takes advantage, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot behind Taylor's ear. He smiles into his boyfriends neck when Taylor makes an approving noise.

“How are you feeling?” Jordan whispers, peppering kisses along the pale skin in front of him.

Taylor snorts and, sue him, but fuck Jordan thinks that's hot. “Fucking pissed off.” Taylor lifts his head, letting his eyes burn into the fridge.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Jordan asks breathlessly. Taylor has him pinned against the opposite counter so fast Jordan would worry about whiplash, if he weren't so turned on.

“Fuck you until you can't move.” Taylor stares straight into Jordan's eyes, in challenge. And fuck, Jordan is pretty sure the tent in his dress pants could shelter all the people who went to Occupy Edmonton. He grins like an idiot. 

“Awesome.”

And then Taylor's lips are crushed against his, tongues in a sparring match, one hand on the base of Jordan's neck, pulling his hair, the other roughly grabbing his ass, Taylor's hips grinding into his, and every sense, every thought Jordan has is _Taylor_. He palms Taylor through his pants and earns himself a deep groan. He quirks his eyebrows, and Hallsy knows exactly what he means. 

Jonesy's right, they really are like a married couple, but he'll think about that later, he's busy right now.

It's an awkward clash of teeth and lips and tongues as they stumble blindly through the living room to Taylor's room. Jordan's knees hit the mattress and Taylor pushes him down. He's really not sure where along the way they lost their shirts, or how their pants are already undone, but he's thankful for it as Taylor makes quick work of the remaining articles of clothing. Jordan watches, as Taylor rummages in his bedside table for a condom and some lube. He's pretty sure his boyfriend is the most beautiful person he's ever met. Even if he looks a bit like Frankenstein's monster, the black eye is kind of hot. He makes a mental note to buy Corey a case of beer in thanks.

Taylor turns around and Jordan squirms a bit as he watches Taylor's darkened eyes drink him in. 

He grabs the condom, rolling it over the length of Taylor's cock and squeezes at the base, earning another groan. Taylor's fingers are slicked up and inside Jordan, stretching him out before he realizes what's happening, and “Ugh, fuck.. yeah, Hallsy.. harder.” Taylor gets a wicked grin, and Jordan kind of hates how he sounds like a porn star.

“What do you want?” Taylor teases him, just barely stroking his prostate, his other hand lightly brushing against Jordan's shaft making him pant and groan. 

“You have to tell me what you want baby, or I won't do it.” It's gonna be quick and rough tonight, Jordan can tell, and he is SO fucking on board for that.

“Fuck me, you asshole.”

That's all the encouragement Taylor needs. He fills Jordan to the hilt and pauses, groaning and letting Jordan adjust. Jordan leans up, catching Taylor's lips in a searing kiss and rocking his hips in search of friction. Taylor's hips drag back and snap forward to meet Jordan's, quickly establishing a neck-breaking pace.

Taylor makes a fist around Jordan's cock and he starts to pump, thumb roughly flicking against the slit. His mouth begins to move down across Jordan's body, leaving markings as he goes. 

Jordan's had just about all he can take when Taylor's dick begins slamming repeatedly into his prostate. He gasps in pleasure, begging Taylor not to stop. Like he would. Taylor moves his hips faster, stuttering into Jordan as he comes. Jordan thrusts into Taylor's fist until he's pushed over the edge, coming in spurts on Taylor's chest as he collapses onto Jordan.

Taylor slowly pulls out, wincing a bit, and disposing of his condom before handing Jordan tissues to clean them up. Jordan knows somethings still wrong, because Taylor is curling into himself as soon as he's clean. He'd lay down in front of a Shea Weber shot if it meant he'd never have to see the look that's on Hallsy's face right now. Jordan briefly checks his phone, there's a text from Ryan that says he'll be back in 5 minutes and everyone needs to be dressed. He quickly texts an 'okay' and rolls back over to see Taylor still staring dejectedly into space and curses to himself.

“What if I'm not good enough?” Taylor's voice is quiet, and the question catches Jordan off guard. He stares quizzically, until Taylor elaborates. 

“What if I'm not good enough to stay in the NHL? I try, so hard, but it never seems like it's enough. And I look at you, and you're so calm and confident, never lose your temper at the guys, or at the coaches. And I wonder if I'm good enough for you. What if one day I wake up, a wash up, without you, without hockey, without anything I love...” 

Taylor trails off in favour of staring at nothing again, and Jordan's heart aches. He reaches out to caress Taylor's cheek, turning his chin and waiting until Taylor meets his gaze. His voice is strong when he speaks.

“I know you trust me, so I need you to trust that I'm telling you the truth. You are more than good enough. You're passion for this game is what every hockey legend had. You are what kids aspire to be, hell you're what I aspire to be. You're going to go so far in this league, I promise. And if hell freezes over, and for some reason you don't get to be a hockey player anymore, I'll love you just the same. I'm here for the long haul Taylor, I don't care what your career is, as long as it makes you happy. I love you. Now, Ryan is coming back with pizza in about 2 minutes. Put on some sweats and a t-shirt and we'll go play some NHL'12, kay?”

Jordan's pretty proud of the dumbfounded look that's on Taylor's face as they both throw on some sweats and move to the living room.

Taylor is just about to sit down when Ryan walks back in the front door holding three pizzas. He pauses slightly at Taylor's gaze, and Jordan can practically see the guilt rolling off Taylor. 

He coughs lightly to diffuse the tension.

“Ryan I..” Taylor is cut off by Ryan waving his hand dismissively.

“I get it man. Been there. You're still awesome, we love you no matter what, all that other mushy bull that I bet Jordan told you like 5 minutes ago.” Jordan's pretty sure the kid is a fucking telepathic, because what the hell?

“Thanks nugget. So we're cool?”

“We're cool, Hallsy.” Ryan puts down the pizzas so that he and Taylor can bro hug it out. Just because he knows there nothing to worry about, doesn't mean that stop the slight twinge of jealousy Jordan feels. Shut up, he's pretty sure his mom told him  
love isn't rational.

“Alright, enough of this feelings crap, let's eat and drink beer and virtually destroy the jack-asses that turned us into mopey teenage girls in the first place, yeah?” He gets two smiles in response, and gestures for Ryan to go into the kitchen to grab the plates and beer.

Taylor returns to the couch, promptly curling into Jordan's side, head resting on his shoulder as Jordan wraps a protective arm around his boyfriend.

“I'm going to score next time. Maybe crash the net. Set you up for a beauty. Fuckin' Kiprusoff thinks he can keep you off the board. Oh, and I guess I love you two retards too. But in a pants-on kinda way for Ryan. Sorry Nugey-kins, you just don't get my engine going.” Taylor continues to ramble happily for a bit and it makes Jordan feel like maybe he's done at least one thing right tonight.

“Who puts mushrooms on a fucking pizza?” Jordan and Ryan catch each others eye and laugh.  
There's the idiot they know and love. Jordan presses a light kiss to the top of Taylor's head as Ryan sets up the X box. So they aren't going to make it remotely close to playoff's this year. 

What he has right here, it's worth the embarrassing loss.


End file.
